he stares out over the grass watching the cars on the road

so many faces filled with hostility and impatience

stuck on the asphalt like an angry caterpillar inching along

all fat on leaves and desperate to reach their nest

are they aware of what awaits them once they do

squeezing themselves tightly into that chrysalis and excreting the enzymes that reduces them to goo

writhing about in agony

forming imaginary discs to one day assume their adult state

is that why they look so irritated in their little metal boxes

knowing they must consume themselves in that silken spun coffin before they can shed the needs of pupa existence

to spread those wings and soar above the streets they are resigned to follow

he doesn’t know

he long ago resigned himself that he would never fly

forced contentment as an unwilling watcher to the grander beauty

he almost resents them

with a sigh he climbs back up his web to wait with a sublime patience for them to hatch

and once they do he will catch them in his near invisible threads spread out between the branches

then he can eat with no small satisfaction